The Grace Girls

by Geraldine O'Neill

  And there was no doubt about it – Kirsty knew she was far better looking than that dark-haired woman in the hotel. And she was younger. It was only a matter of time and surely Larry would realise that despite the age difference, they were really suited. They wanted the same things out of life.

  With that air of confidence wafting around her, Kirsty headed back to the dance hall, head held aloft, determined to enjoy the remainder of this glamorous night.

  The man in the bow-tie who had been talking to Larry earlier was sitting at their table. He stood up when Kirsty arrived, beaming at her in admiration. ‘So this is the latest new talent you were tellin’ me about?’ He nodded approvingly over at Larry. ‘Well, if she sings half as good as she looks, you’re on to a winner! You’re a right cracker, hen!’ He winked at Kirsty and gave Larry a thumbs-up sign and then headed back across the dance floor in a brisk, businesslike manner.

  ‘He seemed really nice,’ Kirsty said, flushing with pleasure. The man wasn’t a lot younger than Larry, so if his opinions were anything to go by, she didn’t come across as that young and silly. She sat down now, and reached for her fresh glass of Babycham, and as she took a drink from it, she felt the bubbly effect adding to the two drinks she’d already had.

  ‘I think you certainly made an impression there,’ Larry said quietly, giving her a long look. ‘And when he hears you singing, he’ll be even more impressed.’ He motioned towards the stage. ‘She wasn’t a patch on you tonight. I was listening really carefully, weighing up the range of songs and watching how the band picked up certain numbers to give her a break every now and again. They were the songs that wouldn’t have taken a flinch out of you. You’ve great stamina and energy on the stage.’ He leaned towards her now, a contented look on his face. ‘I’m delighted I was at that talent contest, it was just the right time for you to be discovered.’

  ‘How d’you mean?’ Kirsty asked, desperate for more praise.

  ‘Well,’ Larry said, considering his words carefully, ‘any earlier and it wouldn’t have worked – you would have been too young for all this. It’s amazing the difference a few years can make.’ He patted her hand now. ‘Career-wise, you’re very mature for a girl of your age. You’ve put a lot of work into these last few weeks.’

  He paused, seeing the delight on her face at the compliment, and a small frown formed on his brow. ‘But I think there might be one little problem, Kirsty . . . something I didn’t think of.’

  ‘What?’ Kirsty said.

  ‘Those girls on the dance floor, and the looks we’ve been getting from some other people. I have a horrible feeling that we might have been taken for a couple tonight . . . and that just might not look too good for either of us.’

  Kirsty’s blue eyes lit up, and she gave a girlish, tinkly laugh. ‘That’s surely not the end of the world, is it? People can think what they like.’

  Larry stared at her for a few moments, then he reached into his suit pocket for his cigarettes and lighter. ‘It’s not as simple as that. Apart from anything else, I’ve got a business reputation to think of.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Kirsty asked, suddenly confused by the conversation.

  ‘Come on, Kirsty,’ he said, raising his eyebrows meaning­fully. He put the lighter on the table while he took a cigarette from the packet. ‘You’re not that naïve, are you? A man of my age out with a beautiful young girl in a dress like that . . .’ His eyes moved very deliberately downwards to her breasts.

  Kirsty looked down at her cleavage, and the dreaded pink flush she often got when nervous started to spread across her chest and neck. ‘If you’re sayin’ that I’m not properly dres­sed . . .’ she stuttered. ‘If you’re sayin’ that you’re embarrassed to be seen with me.’

  She lifted her glass and took a big gulp of the fizzy drink, then she put the glass back down a little too hard, causing drops of the Babycham to spill onto the table.

  ‘I’m certainly not saying that,’ he said, reaching his hand across the table to cover hers. ‘If anything, it’s the opposite. I’m delighted to be out with you tonight, but I asked you to come out with me on a business basis . . . to check out the band and the singer.’ He paused to light his cigarette. ‘I’m also thinking about you, and how it looks for a lovely young girl to be out with an older fella like me. I wouldn’t like people to get the wrong impression about you.’ He sat back in his chair, blowing the smoke to the side, away from her.

  ‘Your age doesn’t bother me a bit,’ Kirsty blurted out. ‘I don’t feel as if you’re older than me . . . I think we get on really well together. I like you better than any fella I’ve gone out with . . .’ She looked straight into his eyes now. ‘I think we’d get on great together – there are plenty of couples that have an age difference.’

  ‘Oh, dear . . .’ Larry said, his face darkening. ‘This is exactly what I was worrying about.’

  A small, cold hand clutched at Kirsty’s heart, as she suddenly realised that she was making a terrible fool of herself. ‘You’re not married or anythin’ like that, are you?’ she asked, thinking the worst.

  ‘Kirsty, you don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he said, sounding exasperated. ‘You don’t know the first thing about me or my life.’

  ‘What d’you mean?’ she stuttered out.

  ‘If you really knew me – you wouldn’t dream of saying such a thing.’

  Chapter 38

  Later that night, Heather woke to the sound of her sister crying. ‘What’s the matter, Kirsty?’ she called across the room in a startled whisper.

  ‘Nothing . . .’ Kirsty said in a croaky, muffled voice. ‘Go back to sleep.’

  Heather reached out her arm, feeling for the bedside lamp. She switched it on, and then covered her eyes for a few seconds to get used to the glaring light. ‘What’s wrong?’ she said, sitting up. Although she was shocked at being woken in such a way, she wasn’t altogether surprised that something was wrong. The way Kirsty had come into bed earlier on had made Heather think that her sister had been annoyed or upset about something, but at the time she’d been too tired to make any issue about it.

  ‘What’s wrong, Kirsty?’ Heather repeated, throwing the covers back and getting out of her bed. She padded barefoot across the floor and came to the side of Kirsty’s bed.

  ‘Oh, I’ve made a terrible fool of myself . . .’ Kirsty said, her voice faint and trembling.

  Heather sat down on the side of the bed and placed a comforting hand over her sister’s shoulder. ‘It can’t be that bad . . .’ she said, suddenly alarmed as her mind flitted back to the scene with Liz the other night. Oh, God, she suddenly thought, please don’t let anything like that have happened to Kirsty.

  Kirsty moved now as though she was going to sit up, then it was as if the effort was too great and she slumped face-down into the pillow. ‘I’ll never be able to face Larry Delaney again,’ she moaned. Then, her shoulders started heaving up and down as vicious sobs racked her body.

  ‘Tell me what’s happened,’ Heather said, gently rubbing her sister’s back and shoulders. ‘Please, Kirsty . . .’ But she just had to wait. Wait until her younger sister had exhausted herself sobbing and crying into the pillow. ‘Are you OK?’ she asked after a while, still fearful of what she was going to hear.

  Eventually, the crying stopped and Kirsty came back up for air. ‘I’ve made the most awful, blidey fool of myself,’ she repeated, sniffling. ‘I can’t believe that I did it.’

  ‘Did what?’ Heather said, trying not to sound as impatient as she was now beginning to feel. ‘I can’t help you if you don’t tell me . . .’

  ‘I told Larry Delaney that . . .’ She started off sobbing again. ‘I told him that I thought we’d make a good couple . . . I more or less told him that I fancied him and wanted us to go out together.’

  ‘Oh my God!’ Heather said, unable to hide her shocked feelings. ‘And is it true? Do you really like him?’

  ‘Aye, I do like him,’ Kirsty replied, a de
fensive note evident in her voice. ‘Why? What wrong with him?’

  ‘I don’t believe it . . .’ Heather whispered. ‘He’s absolutely ancient . . . he’s nearly old enough to be your father . . .’

  ‘Oh, fuck off!’ Kirsty hissed, her voice trembling again. ‘I might have known not to tell you – I might have guessed you wouldn’t understand.’ She shifted in the narrow single bed, turning towards the window, obviously trying to shrug her sister away from her. ‘Oul’ goody-two-shoes there – who passes her exams first time and never makes a mistake. Oul’ Holy Mary who never puts a foot wrong . . .’ Kirsty’s face was now back in the comforting warmth of the pillow again.

  ‘Shut up and don’t be so childish!’ Heather told her in the low, firm voice of an older sister. ‘It’s not my fault if you’ve lost all your sense and made a fool of yourself with that manager of yours.’ She took a deep breath, realising that it was up to her to get things back onto an even keel. ‘I don’t know what you even see in him . . . you’re far too good for him.’

  Nothing was said for a few moments, signalling a truce.

  ‘Do you really like him?’ Heather asked again, this time in a softer, more understanding tone. She started rubbing her sister’s shoulder again.

  Kirsty gave a little sob and nodded her head.

  ‘Well . . . I suppose I’ve only met him once,’ Heather conceded. ‘Maybe there’s more to him than meets the eye.’ She halted. ‘He’s good-looking for his age, I’ll give him that.’

  Kirsty turned around now in the bed, her arms folded behind her head. ‘If you knew him the way I do, you’d understand. I’ve never met anybody like him.’ She gave a big sniff, prompting Heather to reach over to the windowsill for a paper hanky.

  ‘He’s dead clever, and really funny,’ Kirsty went on, taking the proffered hanky. ‘I’ve never felt like this about a fella in my life before . . .’ She dabbed at her eyes and then blew her nose.

  ‘Maybe it’s just infatuation,’ Heather said quietly. ‘Maybe it’s just a kind of crush. You know, the way you might feel about a teacher at school –’

  ‘No,’ Kirsty said, rubbing her nose with the tissue. ‘It’s not anything childish like that. I’m not that stupid, I know the difference. I’ve had enough boyfriends to know . . . Larry’s totally different from them all.’ She cleared her throat now. ‘We’ve got loads in common. When I’m up there on the stage, and he’s watching me, I feel on top of the world. I feel as if we were meant to be together.’ She took a deep, shuddering breath. ‘I think I might be in love with him.’

  ‘What did you actually say to him?’ Heather asked.

  Kirsty slunk down into the bed again. ‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t want to even think about it.’ Then she covered her face with the sheet.

  Heather stared down at the pink bedcover, wondering why all these terrible problems had suddenly plummeted into her life: poor Lily who wasn’t getting better as quickly as everyone had hoped; then there was all the carry-on with Gerry, and of course Liz and now this bombshell with Kirsty.

  Of the four, Liz’s problem seemed the most serious – but it was likely to be the only one with a happy ending. At least Liz had got what she wanted: Jim Murray. She would get married and live happily ever after with her husband and her baby.

  Long after Heather had gone back to sleep, Kirsty lay thinking about her journey home in Larry’s car. Her face burned with shame at the memory. How could she have been so stupid? How could she have made such a terrible fool of herself? How could she have made such an embarrassing mistake?

  She wondered now if it had been the Babychams. Had a couple of drinks loosened her tongue so much? Kirsty wasn’t sure – all she knew was that it had seemed the right thing to say at the time.

  Larry had hardly spoken two words for the first leg of the journey, then he had suddenly started talking and going over the whole excruciating situation again.

  ‘Was it me, Kirsty?’ he had asked in a low voice, his eyes focused on the dark road in front of them. ‘Did I give you the wrong impression?’

  Kirsty’s head and shoulders had drooped as she sat cringing in the car seat beside him. She had eventually managed a shrug and a shake of her head.

  How could she say that it had all started with a romantic dream about him? How could she answer him when she didn’t know the answer herself? She supposed she had just got totally carried away with the whole idea of them working so closely together and him giving her the lovely dresses and then turning up at her house with the expensive perfume that night.

  Had it been the perfume that had triggered off the dream? she had wondered.

  ‘It’s just that I never saw it coming,’ Larry had said. ‘I feel so dense that I never realised what you were thinking.’ He had paused, concentrating on negotiating a tricky turn in the road that took them into Rowanhill. ‘I suppose giving you perfume didn’t help. I didn’t think that you might read more into it – with you being so young . . .’

  Kirsty had squirmed in her seat at the description of being so young, and wondering if he had read her thoughts about the Chanel No. 5.

  ‘Was it that which confused everything? Me giving you the present?’ he had asked.

  ‘No,’ Kirsty had said, in a small voice. ‘I don’t know what it was . . . I don’t know what came over me. I should never have said anything, and I’m really, really sorry I did.’

  They had driven down the main street of Rowanhill and then turned into Kirsty’s street. He had pulled up outside the gate, turned the engine off and then turned towards her, his arm resting on the steering wheel. ‘Do you think we can go on working together after this, Kirsty?’ he had asked, his face solemn in the glow of the orange street lights.

  Kirsty’s chest had tightened and she had found she was almost struggling to breathe. ‘I said I’m sorry, didn’t I?’ she had said, her voice like a child’s – a bit like Lily’s when she was in a bad mood.

  Larry had looked out of the car window, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel. ‘OK,’ he had suddenly decided. ‘We’ll give it another go – we have to – we’ve got that New Year’s commitment in the Clyde Valley Hotel in a few days’ time.’ He halted. ‘We’ll start all over again – just pretend this thing never happened. Make sure everything is on a purely business basis.’

  ‘OK,’ Kirsty had said, a huge wave of relief washing over her. ‘That’s fine by me.’ Thank God, she had thought to herself. Thank God he’s not dropping me and my whole singing career.

  She turned her face back into the pillow now, wishing desperately for the sleep that had eluded her so far. She had to get up for work in the morning, and she needed a couple of hours at least to function any way normally.

  Just as her eyelids started to close, she made a decision. Never again would she make such a fool of herself over a man. She would learn from this.

  She would never, ever leave herself open to being hurt like this again.

  Chapter 39

  Heather had the four penny coins ready in her right hand and the phone receiver in her left listening for an answer. She was all wrapped up in her old duffle coat and thick woolly scarf and gloves, as the temperatures had gradually dropped over the last few days into the more seasonal cold that they were used to. The sudden click on the line prompted her. She slid the copper coins one after the other into the dull brass slot to the side of the phone.

  ‘Hello – can I speak to Sarah Fox, please?’

  ‘Oh, ye’ll have to wait a wee minute, hen,’ a muffled, elderly female Glaswegian voice came over the line. ‘I wis just passin’ by when I heard it ringin, so I was.’ There was a small pause. ‘I’ll just have to hang the phone up and then I’ll gie her a shout. I shouldnae be too long, hen, for I just saw her mother at the windae.’

  The phone receiver was laid down and Heather could hear what she imagined to be the creaking of the phone kiosk door and then the sound of an old lady’s footsteps going off in th
e distance. She could then hear the rumble of city traffic passing by, and more muffled voices, and then eventually she heard the door creak open again.

  ‘Hello, this is Sarah Fox,’ came a familiar breathless voice. ‘Who’s speaking, please?’

  ‘It’s me, Heather.’ She hesitated for a moment, suddenly unsure. Maybe her workmate had forgotten all about her over the Christmas holidays. ‘It’s Heather from the office.’

  ‘Oh, Heather!’ Sarah said in a high-pitched squeal. ‘Ye decided to phone after all.’

  Heather’s heart lifted; she hadn’t been forgotten. ‘I was just wondering if it would still be OK if I came out for that Lex McLean show with you?’

  ‘Of course it’s still OK,’ Sarah told her. ‘They still have tickets left, because one of my mammy’s friends got them today. I can go into the Pavillion tomorrow and get you one no problem.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Heather checked.

  ‘Definitely! Just give me a wee ring again at the same time tomorrow and I’ll let you know I’ve got it all sorted out. You’ll be stayin’ the night at our house like we said, won’t you?’

  ‘Are you sure it’s all right?’ Heather asked, a sense of excitement running through her at the thought of a night out in Glasgow.

  ‘Of course it’s all right,’ Sarah said, sounding almost insulted at being questioned. ‘As long as you don’t mind sharing my room.’

  Heather laughed. ‘Didn’t I already tell you that I share a room with my dead annoying younger sister?’

  After she hung up, Heather dug deep into her coat pocket for her small blue leather purse. She took another fourpence out and a small card she had tucked in the back. She sat the card up on the ledge and carefully dialled the second Glasgow number, then went through the same procedure with the coins.

  ‘Hello,’ a very crisp voice sounded on the line and then went on to recite the number.